Ten for Dying (John the Lord Chamberlain Mysteries) (5 page)

Chapter Eight

Felix went inside and paced from room to room. He eyed the wine jug sitting on the table beside the bed. No. It would be better to do something constructive than start drinking. He and Anastasia had been doing a lot of drinking. He must keep a clear head.

Instead, he could have a word with General Germanus. It wouldn’t hurt to remind Germanus of his loyalty. If there was going to be trouble, Germanus might be his strongest ally.

The general’s doorkeeper informed Felix that Germanus had gone to an important poetry reading at the Baths of Zeuxippos. “Of course, you wouldn’t have known about such a cultural event,” the doorkeeper sniffed.

Luckily, from Felix’s point of view, the reading had just ended when he arrived. The audience was leaving the semi-circular exedra off the main atrium of the bath complex, excitedly debating the merits of competing court poets as if the versifiers were charioteers and money was riding on the winner of a forthcoming literary debate.

A group of big, imposing men, all with an obvious military mien, lingered between the curved rows of seats and the speaker’s platform.

Felix spotted Germanus among them.

In his early forties, the general was, like Justinian, a nephew of the late Emperor Justin. However, like Justin and unlike Justinian, he had retained the rugged look of the family’s peasant origins, with a granite block of a face and powerful, sloping shoulders. He kept his dark hair and beard trimmed to a stubble.

This was a man who looked and acted like an emperor. Not a man who took orders from a woman, as Justinian had. And what would Justinian do now that Theodora was gone? Had it not been for her admonitions he would have fled the city like a frightened girl during the Nika riots years ago. And considering that Justinian’s chief general Belisarius was likewise ruled by his wife Antonina…well, Felix feared for the fate of the empire. Whereas if Germanus replaced Belisarius he would soon restore things to their proper order.

As Felix approached he saw Germanus speaking to a swarthy, clean-shaven young man. “Excellent work, Florus. Your arrows go straight to their targets. I look forward to the next reading.” He clapped the man on the shoulder so hard Felix was surprised the slight fellow remained standing.

The poet bowed and left the exedra, a large scroll thrust before him, a spear of words.

Felix caught Germanus’ eye. “Captain Felix, you’re late. Florus was reading from his
New Illiad
, the part where Belisarius retreats to his ship off the coast of Italy and sulks. I admit I offered a few suggestions. He says I inspire him.”

“You inspire many of us,” Felix said, wondering how much of Germanus’ gold had watered the inspiration. Surely Germanus’ Uncle Justin, whom Felix had served as a bodyguard, would not have bragged about inspiring poets. The old soldier-turned-emperor couldn’t even read.

Felix read only history, such as Cassiodorus’
History of the Goths
, ever hopeful that he would one day be sent to Italy to help vanquish those bold warriors. And of course lately he had read a few biblical verses at Anastasia’s behest.

Felix’s expression must have betrayed his lack of enthusiasm.

“Florus is a real man’s poet,” Germanus added. “Cold steel and hot blood, none of these pitiful perfumed worms squealing like suckling pigs while they squirm under a woman’s dainty thumb.”

One of the general’s looming entourage went so far as to clap Germanus on the back and laugh heartily. “You should write that down, sir. You’re a better poet than Florus!”

Felix attempted a polite chuckle.

“Why are you here, Felix? Do you have information for me?” The general’s tone was chillier than Felix would have liked.

“The Lord Chamberlain has departed for Greece. I saw him leaving this morning.”

“Everyone in the city knows he’s been sent into exile.”

“True, but he has actually left now. Meaning Narses will now have Justinian’s ear. There will be no one to challenge him.”

“One eunuch is much like another.”

“The emperor might, however, be inclined to listen more closely to his excubitor captain. I am after all in charge of palace security and the palace is even more dangerous than usual with Theodora gone and Justinian still reeling from his loss. Changes are coming, and changes always bring danger.”

Germanus barked out a laugh. “Since Justinian’s uncle was captain of the excubitors before he usurped the throne, the emperor might consider you dangerous.”

“Am I dangerous to the emperor? Do you want me to be?” Felix asked softly.

Germanus smiled. It was the smile of a wolf baring its teeth. “I’m pleased to see you are so eager, my friend. But we must be careful.”

“I am looking forward to fighting by your side in Italy. But if there is anything I can do immediately, I am at your service.”

“I appreciate your support. But Constantinople is not Italy. We are not at war here.”

“You and Belisarius are at war.”

“Indeed.” Germanus ran an enormous hand over his cropped hair. His colleagues stood silent, pretending not to listen although they could not have failed to hear every word. “It is not a war that can be fought with steel, however, which is where you excel.”

“Nevertheless, if I can assist, I will. Whatever you need.”

“What I need is something to fatally soil Belisarius’ reputation, something that will make him a stench in the emperor’s nostrils, something that will cause the emperor to distrust him.”

It was the sort of information John would have been more likely to turn up, Felix thought. “I will keep my eyes and ears open,” he said. “I have many contacts at the palace.”

Possibly Anastasia knew something useful. He did not voice the thought.

“Very good.” Germanus clapped him on the shoulder. “I like to see enthusiasm in my allies. But you must not seek me out. I will send for you if I need you. I will see you are invited to Florus’ next reading.”

Chapter Nine

When Felix got back home, Anastasia still had not returned. Felix ate by himself by lamplight.

He was more irritated than worried. She had her duties at the palace, although she had never specified what they were. Attending a doddering old matron who did not take notice of her frequent absences perhaps?

Nikomachos cleared the table with his typical maddening slowness. How else could a one-armed servant clear a table? If not for Felix he would be unemployable since he couldn’t fight anymore. His service to the empire entitled him to live in dignity.

Felix went out into the back courtyard for a breath of air. Over the top of the wall he could see only vague shapes of buildings.

Sunset had bloodied the sky. Darkness, assassin of daylight, had fallen upon the city’s cross-decorated roofs sheltering commoner and courtier alike. The dome of the Great Church spilled a radiant halo of light. The fires of furnaces in the copper smiths’ quarter were banked down. Ill-lit narrow streets filled with humanity hurrying back to their homes. In darker areas under porticoes and in the angles of church walls the homeless settled down for another restless night. In the houses of the rich, guests began to arrive to pick at exotic dishes, over-indulge in wine, and complain about the state of the empire. The pious worshipped while the profane gathered in smoke-stained taverns, drank, and wagered on knucklebones.

Felix strolled toward the stable. It seemed unlikely now that Anastasia would appear and there had been no message to say what had detained her. Perhaps he should do his duty and consider the best way to continue his investigation into the theft of the holy shroud.

What did he have to go on? The witnesses claimed it had been stolen by two demons who in some fashion had worked evil magick incapacitating those within the church.

He could hear the horses moving about in their stalls and the skittering of a rat through straw. Laughter emerged from the servants’ quarters at the rear of the house. The humid air lay unpleasantly against his skin, heavy with the odor of horses and the sour tang of garbage in the alley beyond the back gate.

A dark figure looked in through the bars of the gate.

Had the messenger Felix was anticipating with dread arrived so soon? Usually he called in the middle of the night.

Why was he skulking around the back, drawing attention to the house, rather than entering boldly by the front like any casual visitor?

Felix walked to the gate. As he approached, the figure whirled around and ran.

Someone was afraid of being caught!

In his haste Felix fumbled with the bolt. By the time he stepped into the alley the man was vanishing into the darkness.

Felix sprinted in pursuit. The winged feet of panic could only partly make up for lack of visits to the gymnasium. Luckily his prey ran like an injured crab, lurching wildly from side to side. He was small, perhaps only a child.

Puffing and wheezing, Felix caught the intruder at the mouth of the alley. He grabbed a wrist resembling a fleshless bone and yanked hard. The emaciated figure fell on its back with a gurgling whimper that barely sounded human. A torch in front of a closed shop across the way illuminated the end of the alley.

Felix could make out a hunched, hooded form.

The thing wriggled and gasped, a fish flopping on the dock.

Felix shook his prey fiercely. The hood fell back and Felix looked into a grotesque demonic face.

No. Not demonic

Worse!

He dropped the thing’s arm.

“Please, master. I meant no harm,” the monstrosity gurgled at him. “A bit of food for the love of Christ was all I wanted…”

The face before him was covered with lesions.

Felix backed away in horror.

He had just manhandled a leper.

***

Felix was still soaking when Anastasia came flying into the bath chamber without warning. She appeared agitated.

“Felix…” She faltered, then stopped.

He pushed stray wet hair back off his forehead and ran a hand through his dripping beard. “Has your husband become suspicious?”

“What? What husband? Certainly not. What makes you say such a thing?”

“Considering the disasters that have been seeking me out, it seemed a reasonable guess. What’s scared you so badly?”

“Is it obvious?”

It was. Her face looked paler than usual despite the stifling heat in the cramped, circular room. Steam swirled up from the water in the basin that occupied most of the space. The fine silks Anastasia wore were already wilting.

“You wouldn’t have burst in here unless there was something wrong. What is it?”

“I saw a demon as I was approaching the house. A dreadful, twisted thing, loping through the shadows under the colonnade. I got into the house as fast as I could.”

“The city seems to be infested with demons. Everyone’s seeing them.”

“It’s true. They’re skulking about everywhere. The servants spotted them!”

“My servants?”

“No. Servants at the…palace…where I’ve been all day.”

Felix let his head fall back against the edge of the basin and stared up into the foggy cloud gathered in the small dome overhead. “I can assure you that what you saw wasn’t any sort of evil spirit. I encountered the creature myself earlier tonight. It was a leper.”

“A leper!” Anastasia gasped. “How do you know?”

“By its disfigured face. Claimed to be looking for something to eat, but how often do honest beggars creep around in dark alleyways? No, they go to the house door and ask for charity and refuse to leave until they get it or the urban watch happens to go by on patrol. Then they scuttle off fast enough.”

He heaved himself out of the water. “I’ll make sure he’s removed from the city tomorrow if he’s still around.”

Anastasia had her hands up to her face as if suppressing a scream.

“Don’t worry, my little dove. I’ve had the garments I was wearing burnt and I’ve been scrubbing myself raw. You need not fear being close to me.” He tried to smile.

He thought it best not to mention he had actually touched the leper, particularly since he was trying to forget that himself.

DAY TWO

Chapter Ten

John stood an arm’s length from the rail at the stern of the
Leviathan
, his back to the captain’s cabin, and watched sunrise over the Marmara.

As sky and sea lightened, clustered sails replaced twinkling constellations of shipboard lights. Vessels beyond counting streamed toward and away from Constantinople, now vanished into the distance. Long warships, oars churning the flashing water in mechanical unison, arrowed past ponderous merchants and flocks of smaller boats. The decrepit coastal trader carrying John and his companions groaned and complained, an old mariner trying to get out of bed.

The
Leviathan
was due to follow the Thracian coast of the Sea of Marmara, through the Hellespont strait southwest to the Aegean, calling at local ports. It would reach John’s destination, Megara, near Athens and not far from where he had attended Plato’s Academy, when the vagaries of commerce decreed. Not an ideal mode of travel but the best available given Justinian’s impatience.

The ship had made two stops during the first day of sailing and then anchored for the night at the mouth of a tiny noisome bay where ancient walls had collapsed into the scummy water. John reckoned they had not traveled as far as he could have ridden.

Cornelia brushed by him to lean out over the rail.

“Be careful,” he told her. He feared deep water. Long ago he had seen a colleague drown.

“How long have you been on deck, John?” Annoyed, she spoke without turning around. “Waking up alone gave me a start.”

“I meant to be back before you were up but my mind wandered.”

Also, he had not been able to descend again into the cramped cubicle the two well-paying passengers had been granted, away from crates and amphorae and the bunks of the crew where Peter and Hypatia had been relegated, so terribly near to that eternal night of the sea depths.

“You must stop fretting about Felix,” Cornelia said sternly. “I’m sure he can take care of himself. How could he possibly get into trouble over the theft of a relic?”

“Perhaps you are right,” John admitted.

Cornelia peered into the mist shrouding the shore. “Will we be able to catch a glimpse of Zeno’s estate?”

“It’s too late. We passed it during the night.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to see Thomas and Europa and our grandson one last time before leaving. Still, they’ll join us soon.”

“I’m sure Thomas will be a capable estate manager for us.”

Cornelia turned away from the sea. Concern softened her irritated expression. “Oh, John, I can tell you’re brooding. Haven’t we always talked about leaving the city and retiring to Greece? I know you wouldn’t actually have done it. And now see how your sense of duty and loyalty to Justinian has been repaid!”

“He granted me my life and some of my land,” John pointed out.

“Indeed! How generous! And he’s also given you a well-earned retirement you would never have chosen for yourself. That’s how I try to see it.”

“Perhaps you are right.” He didn’t want Cornelia to be upset and he didn’t want to argue. He was glad when she turned away again and silently surveyed the crowded sea. She looked less drawn and exhausted than she had of late, now they were doing what needed to be done rather than anxiously waiting to start. And, he supposed, it pleased her to be going somewhere—anywhere—to be traveling again after years in Constantinople.

They had met on the road. He a young mercenary, she one of a troupe of entertainers, her specialty re-enacting the legendary acrobatics of Crete’s ancient bull leapers. Then circumstances separated them for years, until they encountered each other again in Constantinople and John found he had a daughter he had never known.

Gray tinged Cornelia’s hair and city life had dulled slightly the bronze to which foreign suns had darkened her skin. John knew well the tiny wrinkles around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth where formerly the flesh had been smooth. However, she was as lithe as when he had met her. She looked as if she could still somersault safely from a running bull. He, on the other hand, was much changed.

Probably Cornelia felt caged in the city, like one of the accursed birds twittering ceaselessly below decks. Some type of songbirds, wicker cages full of them. John preferred the ragged cries of the seabirds soaring above.

A swell rocked the ship. John shifted his feet but made no effort to move forward to grasp the rail. He didn’t want to be any closer to the water. The sun’s rays already felt hot.

“I must speak with Hypatia,” John said. “She knows about herbs. I had an idea, suddenly, about what might have happened at the church.”

Cornelia smiled wearily. “You mean you were standing out here alone, agonizing over the mystery until you came up with a solution. I saw her with Peter as I left our little nest. He wanted to get the captain’s permission to use the brazier in his cabin. Apparently he doesn’t trust the ship’s cook to prepare fit meals for us.”

John stepped around the back of the cabin and looked down the length of the ship. Crewmen crowded the deck which steamed in spots as the sun burned away the night’s dampness. During his solitary watch he had watched a sailor prodding at the waters with a long pole, making certain the ship didn’t run aground as it moved away from the bay.

He found Peter looking cross. “Captain Theon is an obstinate man. It isn’t right that the Lord Chamberlain should delay his meals until after the crew are fed.”

“Were I still Lord Chamberlain it would not be the case, Peter.”

“Imagine, a sailor insulting an imperial official,” Peter fumed. “He said he had better things to worry about than who ate when. The way the birds were flying meant bad weather, he said.”

John glanced at the cloudless sky where seabirds circled. “It looks like a fine day to me. And Hypatia…?”

“I asked her to see about getting fresh fish.” He pointed to the prow, where John saw his Egyptian servant talking with several sailors who were preparing fishing lines.

John thanked Peter for his efforts and made way his forward, trying not to trip over the ropes strewn across the deck. None of the crew spoke to him. Passengers were just so many goods to be transported.

The day before, John had been taking inventory of the other travelers. There were two farmers, judging by their rough appearance and clothing. They may have been returning to their native soil after failing to find work in Constantinople. Then again, they might have gone to the city to petition the emperor over matters concerning land or taxation. An ancient woman by the name of Egina and her attendant occupied the makeshift room next to John and Cornelia’s cubicle, almost certainly returning from a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage. They heard her reading scripture late into the night in a voice whispering like dry leaves in a winter wind. The last passenger was a young man who appeared to be staying with Captain Theon. Dressed a little too well for travel, John guessed he was a callow scion sent to inspect the family holdings.

Hypatia looked happier than Peter. She had arranged to purchase the pick of each day’s catch, she told John, who couldn’t help reflecting that women seemed better than men at handling life’s unexpected vicissitudes.

When she screwed up her tawny-skinned face to consider the question he put to her, it struck him that she alone, of the travelers on board, looked as if she belonged amidst the sunburnt sailors. “Visions, master? You wish to know which plants could cause visions?”

“I have heard such exist, Hypatia.”

“There is mandrake. Yes, mandrake would do it. But I’ll have to ponder the question further.”

“Could mandrake be prepared so that it could be burned?”

“I don’t see why not, if it were properly dried. But I’m afraid I didn’t bring any mandrake. I do have other herbs and preparations, in case you need something.” She looked puzzled.

“No, I don’t need anything right now, nor am I seeking a vision.” Except, perhaps, for a vision of his uncertain future, John told himself as he returned thoughtfully to Cornelia, who still leaned precariously over the rail, breathing in the sea air.

He detailed his conclusions for her. “So mandrake, or a similar herb, could have been mixed with the incense smoldering in the church. Anyone inhaling the fumes might have seen the human thieves as fiends. Unfortunately I can’t tell Felix now.”

“Oh, John, you had other things to think about! Felix is bound to solve the mystery as soon as he puts his mind to it.”